


Photograph

by Notclowningaround0



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Creepy, F/M, Fluff, Pennywise/you - Freeform, pennywise - Freeform, pennywise x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notclowningaround0/pseuds/Notclowningaround0
Summary: Sometimes taking a photograph isn't the best choice but sometimes good things come out of it.Or Pennywise takes interest in your polaroid camera.





	Photograph

**Author's Note:**

> Hey thanks for taking a read! Slowly getting back into the swing of things.

They warned you about Derry. Everyone you had come across had said that the town was cursed, that an evil lived there and awoke every 27 years. Maybe they were all right, it was just that you'd yet to experience the terror that was the monster in this town. But that was to change, as you would soon find out.  
It was advised that when it was 27th year in the cycle, no one was allowed to venture out without at least another person and were certainly not allowed to take walks in the wilderness or after the curfew of 7pm. You couldn't understand these terms giving that you were never around 27 years ago to truly know of the horrors of what would happen if you were caught out. And so you decided to take a walk, your trust polaroid camera around your neck to take photos of the landscape.  
The walk was pleasant, the air was clear and cool against your skin. It wasn't harsh, just the gentlest of sensations that only barely danced through the tendrils of your hair. You were in a field, a beautiful, large field filled with blossoming wild sunflowers that glowed in the sunlight. They swayed gently in the breeze too, all in sync. You decided to take a photo.  
Click!  
The little rectangle photo slid out of the camera and you pinched the corner of it and held it. You had already set up an area to place the developing photos on a book you had laid out on the ground with your coat covering it to keep it out of the sun. Whilst you waited, you decided to walk around to take more photos, one of a closer up image of a sunflower, the trees nearby and then you came to an opening that exposed the brook. The water rushed softly along the shallow ground, allowing rocks and boulders to poke out from the surface. It seemed an ideal place to take another photo.  
You glanced back at your developing photos under the coat. No one was around, it wasn't as if they would be taken. You decided you would allow them to sit for a while and continued onwards for the brook. The sound of the water was louder now but no less pleasant. You could see the mouth of the sewers far ahead under heavy coverage of weeds that were hanging down over the entrance. Surprisingly, you couldn't smell it yet. You held your camera up and snapped a photo of the water where the sun glistened on the surface. You smiled and took hold of the developing photo and settled it upon a stable rock. Then you heard it.

Oranges and lemons...  
...say the bells of Saint Clement's...

You glanced around, a shiver dancing down your spine. But there was no-one around. The nursery rhyme continued, the sound of children singing echoed around you like a mist. And then there was a jingle of bells.  
Right behind you.  
You froze. Maybe it was nothing. Probably just a child or a group of children coming to play in the brook. Perfectly fine and normal. You'd convinced yourself enough to relax and turn.  
There were no children. But there was someone.  
You had to tilt your head upwards, your neck There were no children. But there was someone.slightly strained to see the face of the strange clown now stood behind you. And oh how you wished you didn't. He was grinning, but it was malicious, unnerving. Definitely not friendly like a clown should be. His make-up was too cracked and worn to be presentable, but it looked like his actual skin strangely enough. The red nose was admittedly cute, as were the child-like rounded cheeks and yellowed and large bucked teeth but his eyes. There was something wrong with them. The red stripes connecting from the full, red lips slashed through the centre of those blue eyes but one of them was glancing the wrong way, looking towards the left rather than at you. His brow was quite angry, raising quite high up his abnormally large forehead. His hair was soft and bouncy in a blood orange colour and his suit was all grey and puffy and finished off with blood orange pom-poms. He stood stiffly with his arms unnaturally straight at his sides. The ruffled collar around his neck shivered gently in the wind as he continued to stand motionless with a nasty grin on his face.  
You didn't know what to think. Why was he here? How did he sneak up on you? Surely you would have sensed that you weren't alone. This showed just how dangerous it really was to be alone in this town. Besides, weren't clowns banned in this town?  
Your body felt cold. Clowns were definitely banned. No one dared to portray a clown here. But there was a clown right in front of you, an unnatural clown. You stepped away from him.  
"No fucking way..." You muttered. The clown stepped forward, following your steps.  
"Where are ya going, (y/n)? Didn't you wanna take some photos?" He spoke. You hated his voice and stumbled away.  
"Shit!"  
You broke into a sprint and made it across the brook, water splashing you all over and crashing over the rocks and boulders. You turned back stupidly to see if the clown followed but he still stood where he was before, a snarling grin still occupying his face. You should have continued running as he raised his hand to wave, but instead you quickly snapped a photo of him to have as reference for the Derry police, and then you hastily retreated onto the main road.  
You forgot that you had left your polaroids behind.

 

The visit to the Derry police department was a good few hours as you told them everything. The polaroid had developed by then and you had showed them and let them keep it as evidence. It was just as they had feared. It had awoken. When you arrived home, your main focus was to take your laptop and research on the true history of Derry, of everything everyone refused to talk about. Oh how you discovered the most horrific of details.  
This town, these people. They were in a dark deal with a demonic being. That was all you could really take from all of it. The way these people had a routine for when this creature would awaken, covering up children being taken as mere disappearances despite knowing that no child would be found, save for a shoe maybe that the adults could claim as their son or daughter's. You couldn't understand why people would still actively want to move into this town and to thrive and start families knowing that their children would grow to be at risk of being taken as well.  
You settled back and sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. This was a lot to take in at once. Too much. You were thirsty, your throat parched and it was then that you realised the last thing you drank was at breakfast, over 9 hours ago. With this in mind, you decided to grab a glass of juice. So you stood up from the sofa you'd sat on in the living room and shuffled your way through to the kitchen. You didn't pay much attention to the environment around you as you took the carton of juice from the fridge. Not until you had drank a full glass. It was when you turned back to the fridge that you became horribly aware of everything around you. Attached to the fridge was something that was impossible to be there. You were sure you hadn't taken any polaroids home, the only one you had was the one you had given to the police. And yet...  
...yet there was the first polaroid you had taken that day. With a shaking hand, you moved the magnet holding the photograph in place before you could take hold of it.  
The photo depicted the sunflowers from the field. It wasn't a horrible photo, it was pretty in fact. It was just the way it had turned up so randomly, so impossibly that made you dislike it now. You hastily made you way back to the living room, the photo still in your grasp, and sat down on the sofa. You took your laptop and placed it on your lap and lifted the lid to get back to what you were doing. But then you gasped loudly in panic.  
There was another polaroid photo stuck onto the screen.  
You slammed the laptop lid down and shoved it back onto the sofa. You were on your feet now and pacing around the room. How would this happen? You left those photos at the field! The only thing you brought back home was your camera so for these photos to show up was not logical.  
You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. This was tiring. It was late and you needed to sleep. You decided you would get to the bottom of this in the morning when you were more alert for you weren't thinking rationally with your exhaustion overcoming you. So you trudged up the stairs and made way for your bedroom to get some shut eye.The floorboards creaked under foot as you crossed the landing to your room. You grasped the door handle. Turn. Push open the door. And then you froze in utter terror.  
A large silhouette was leering in the corner of the room, the shoulders of the thing large and hunched. In haste, you flicked the bedroom light on to reveal what the thing was but there wasn't anything there. Your eyes simply observed the wall that lay behind where the silhouette had been. You groaned a little and rubbed your eyes. Exhaustion was definitely messing with your imagination right now. The day had been a hectic one after all. And so you closed your bedroom door and stripped off your clothes from that day and pulled on some cotton shorts and an old tee shirt for nightwear. The bed was cool and soft when you settled down in it and sleep was almost too easy to reach.  
Oh how you wished you'd fallen asleep faster.  
The creak of the wardrobe door was sure to be your imagination. Or the house settling in the night. It was totally normal. But then it happened again. Creak, shut. Creak, shut. When the third time came around you were wide awake and staring at the storage space warily. You flinched as you watched the door open and close just a little bit. Something was in there. Your nose scrunched up in discontent.  
You really didn't want to go over there and see what lay behind the wardrobe door besides your clothes. Because it never usually did that. There was no breeze in the room to move it, no air conditioning. So it was strange for it to be opening and closing. When it was closing in on the tenth time of it opening and closing, you reluctantly slipped your feet out of the warmth of the bed and allowed your feet to touch the floor. Your eyes never left the wardrobe as you came to stand, nor when you slowly approached it either.  
You had your phone in hand with the torch on so you could see better in the pitch black room. You stopped. The wardrobe was now right in front of you. You drew in a shaky breath as hesitantly reached for the handle wirh your spare hand. The cupboard had stopped moving. You waited a second longer and then yanked the door open aggressively. Chest rising and falling rapidly as your heart thumped loudly in your ears, you stared at another polaroid. But this one scared you. It was the one you had turned into the police station. You gasped out loud and grabbed the photo, slamming the door shut and spinning round to run back to bed. Instead, you opened your mouth to scream.  
A large, white gloved hand slapped onto your mouth to silence you as your eyes stared into chaotic amber eyes. The figure let out a dry chuckle and your eyes widened. It was him. Or It. You weren't sure. Pennywise grinned at you in the dark, his bucked teeth flashing dangerously in the phone torch light.  
"Heh, if it isn't the little photographer. Did you like that I returned your photos for ya? I know you wanted them." He said. His voice wasn't one you expected, it was kooky and strange, a little high pitched but it was crackly too. You quivered in his grip. Pennywise was so close you could feel the body heat radiating from him into your bones, more shivers dancing through your body. You pulled away from his grasp and inhaled sharply.  
"What do you want from me?" You hissed, trying to seem less afraid than you really were. The clown saw right through your tough act and he made sure you knew it. He stepped closer still and bent forward so his face was at your level.  
"You smell delicious, my sweet. But I will not eat you." He giggled and his breath fanned across your face. It was sweet and intoxicating, much like hot caramel and you unconsciously leaned a little closer before you could catch yourself out.  
"B-but-"  
Pennywise pouted and you realised he held onto your polaroid camera in his large hand. It almost seemed like a child's toy now. You gulped and shifted from one foot to another.  
"Unless you want me to feast on your fear.." The clown trailed off and then you squeaked as the hand that was empty began to transform, black claws tearing through the thin, white fabric and now reaching a length longer than the average man's size hand. You shook your head quickly as your eyes flicked between his face and his hand. And then the claws were gone, the glove intact. He smiled almost sweetly despite his brows being a permanent deep frown.  
"Good." The light in the room was suddenly illuminated, burning your retinas slightly as you squinted. But now you could see the clown in all his glory, and you weren't sure what to make of it. But there wasn't time to think about it because he was grasping you towards his body and posing you. Before you knew it, Pennywise had the polaroid camera at the ready and was snapping a photo of himself and you together. But as the camera clicked, the lights were out and the sensation of the clown's hand on you was gone. You were suddenly alone, your eyes wide in shock as you tried to register what had just happened.  
You didn't sleep so soundly that night.

Three days since the incident and there was no sign of the clown. The only thing that had you believe it really happened was your own polaroids from that day that you had since stuck in a scrapbook. It was so strange, but an interesting entry to write about and you did, sprawling out a page spread about the ordeal with a few little doodles here and there around the photos. It was coming up to four days since the incident now. You hadn't really done a whole lot since, mainly just scrapbooking from various other days spent there in Derry.  
Now you were settled down on your bed with the scrapbook and you were flicking through it page by page, reading the entries and trailing your fingers over past photos. A small smile had painted itself onto your lips as you read, the memories mostly fond rather than upsetting. And then you came to that particular page spread. You barely glanced over it much, opting to mainly looking at the photos and drawings before flicking onto the next page. Then you paused in surprise. The next page had originally been blank, waiting for the next entry but now it was occupied. Another polaroid. The one Pennywise had taken of himself and you. It was a surprise to see how happy you looked in the photo with the demonic clown despite having been frightened the entire time. Your fingers trailed over the text below it:  
Pennywise and (y/n), floating friends  
You weren't sure what he meant by floating friends, but there wasn't time to dwell on it as the familiar scent of liquid caramel invaded your senses. You looked up from the scrapbook and a small smile crept onto your lips. Red painted lips smirked back at you from across the room on the tall figure.


End file.
